


Scarlet Crown

by Ladyhydrangeas



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Ghosts, Its a crimson peak au so expect crimson peak and hannibal things I guess, M/M, Victorian, crimson peak au, i forgot, its set in victorian times right? i dont even know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyhydrangeas/pseuds/Ladyhydrangeas
Summary: The day he met him was cloudy yet warm. A breeze that lightly ruffled bonnets and top hats, settling in for the first cold front of the season to pass through. Will Graham would remember this time for the rest of his life. The moment when Maroon eyes looked deeply into his own and he felt truly and surely trapped.The day he met Hannibal Lecter.Is my title a synonym wordplay of Crimson Peak? Yes, yes it is.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! (^u^) 
> 
> Ive been working on this fic for a good year and a half now? Maybe longer? I wanted to write all of this before I posted, and as of right now I have not yet but I have a good half of it written so I feel good about posting it!
> 
> WARNINGS: This story is going to have violence, ghosts, blood, gore (potentially), with more warnings added as the story goes on.

The sound of galloping horses were the only noises heard in the carriage as the company inside stared out the window towards the passing scenery. A man leaned his head against the glass. Closed his eyes and let himself breathe. Leaves rustled against beating hooves on cobblestone pathways. 

It was the only sound heard. 

The day he met him was cloudy yet warm. A breeze that lightly ruffled bonnets and top hats, settling in for the first cold front of the season to pass through. Will Graham would remember this time for the rest of his life. The moment when Maroon eyes looked deeply into his own and he felt truly and surely trapped. 

The day he met Hannibal Lecter. 

Streets filled with happily chattering families, couples and children alike. The cobble stone roads crowded and booming with the day to day business that engulfed their society. A small child skittered about, running past long skirts and around mangy mutts trying to pick up any scraps they could find. She grabbed coins and trinkets, humming to herself over her spoils until a hand whipped past to stop her in her tracks by her wrist. “None of that,” a voice whispered gently. The hand let go only to move to the top of her head, ruffling the hair there. It would surely tangle into a big nest. The little creature gazed up at the man, his curly brown locks sweeping over his forehead to hide his eyes from others. His eyes that looked towards her own with a kindness she couldn't really say she knew. 

He was short for a man, she thought to herself. And he was wearing a police outfit. Her cheeks colored with the embarrassment of being caught; her grubby hands twitched. “Sorry...” The words were muttered, the child looking down. 

“There is no need for that young miss,” Will said bending down to her level so they could speak on a more eye to eye basis. “Just return the items that you know might mean something to the people you stole. You wouldn't want to have something precious to you taken by a passer by would you? You are such a sweet girl, im sure no one will be mad.” His smile grew fonder as the child quickly shook her head, beaming and blushing before running off and up to a woman with her hands outstretched. The woman gasped, grabbing the locket and smiled brightly. She ruffled through her pockets to pass the child back a coin. 

Will's smile stayed on his face at the interaction. He stood up fully now, dusting off the front of his jacket before retreating back into steps with his partners, Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller. They teased him relentlessly while the three of them walked. Empathetic Will Graham, Kind soul to those shorter and younger than he. The prodigy adopted child of Chief Inspector Jack Crawford and his wife Bella. 

Many times Will wanted to kick them in the shins. Most times he held back on that feeling. 

Sometimes though... well the resounding “OW” was music to his ears. 

Jack Crawford and Bella Crawford had a way about them that allowed them many great things in life. They had status, they had money, and were generally well liked by anyone who had the chance to meet them. If anyone asked Jack he would tell them it was love at first sight. Meeting his beloved Bella on the Italian shores. If anyone asked Bella, it took her a while to admit the same. She basked in his attentions, bashful and beautiful in all her glory. Their marriage was a quick affair, only having known each other for a mere 6 months before tying loose ends together and hoping for a child of their own. 

It didn't happen. 

Bella found out on their third time trying and failing that she could never have a child unless she risked her own life in doing so. She was devastated. The truth of the cold world crashing down around her, she felt choked. Jack watched on with horror, resigned to the fate that their happy life may never fully come to fruition. In a last attempt that was more out of desperation than anything else; he picked up a child of decent health at the nearest orphanage to bring home with him. Bella had fallen in love immediately. She wanted to name him Will, for it was through sure will power that they would find a place of their own. 

They let him keep his surname; a reminder of the past he had and a future that would be better off than theirs. An inheritance and title above their own. 

Bella Crawford died of complications to pneumonia 13 years later, when Will Graham turned 18. It was a turning point for the Crawford family. A family so accustomed to the sadness and loss of others because of their employment, now faced the same trauma themselves. Jack was quiet for weeks. Weeks that stretched into months. Will remembered watching on, not quite knowing what to do.

He felt it all too vividly. 

Zeller and Price walked ahead of him through the entrance of the precinct, chatting animatedly to each other. Zeller was quite the hand talker. He smiled, cackling a laugh while Price looked on with some sort of camaraderie admiration. The station was bustling with action. People walked from one place to another, carrying papers and clicking their writing tools against different surfaces. There was a low rumbling of voices, not one being louder that the other. Jack was at his desk, looking through white pages while wearing the glasses he always hated wearing. Made him look weak, he once said to Bella while she laughed and patted him on the shoulder in consolidation. Now, he looked up at them, nodding while keeping his attentions to the work in front of him. 

“Will, I want you to stay here for a few minutes” His voice was deep, taking on an authoritative tone, telling Will that it was a work related matter and not a personal or family one. Will took a step back. He breathed in deeply, holding on to a sigh that was begging to escape from his lungs. His toe tapped impatiently on the ground once he walked up into Chief Inspector Crawford's space. The other man took sometime, carefully reading and singing the papers in his possession. His glasses, perched on the tip of his nose, glimmered in the candle light. “How was the rounds,” He eventually asked, eyes and focus more on the work in front of him than the answer his son would have. 

Will could tell; he nodded in a small sense of rebellion and spite. If the Chief was going to make him wait,then he was going to make it a battle of effort on his own. An effort which was going to happen by the look that Jack shot at him before ruffling his papers back into a somewhat neat stack upon his desk. The inspector bent forward a degree, leaning in as if he was about to tell Will one of the biggest secrets of all time. Or as if he wanted to tell Will something that he didn't want Will making a loud enough fuss over. 

In retrospect, it had always had to be the second option. 

“ Before you say anything, Will. No, no do not give me that look. Before you say anything, I want you to at least meet the ma-”

“Are you kidding me?” Will stiffened, aware now of every sound that was and wasn't being made at that time. His whole body coiled with tension, ready to pounce and attack. He KNEW where this was going. He KNEW how this conversation always went.

“See this is exactly why I wanted you to wait until I was done talking.” 

“The answer wont ever change Da- Inspector,” Will's mouth fumbled over the correction. “Its NO”

“No? Quite the sure and harsh final decision.” A new voice quietly interrupted. A accented voice, one not heard often around their part of the world. Will found himself whipping his head around to take a look at the man who spoke. Quite the man indeed. He was tall, poised and fashionable. Sunglasses were covering his eyes. The round, black lenses shouldn't have been charming on a face with such sharp cheek bones. Yet the man wore them with a grace that screamed upper class and 'if it doesn't work out, make it work out.' attitude. His clothes screamed the same exact thing, Will found. Muted and yet colorful Plaid suits pairing with.... what was with the spiral ties? 

“Ah Dr Lecter, good to see you are on time.” Inspector Crawford smiled, holding out his hand for a common and professional greeting. 

Will humphed at the action. It didn't necessarily give him the reaction he wanted; both Crawford and this new comer looked at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugged, not entirely caring for the professionalism that was required in this kind of environment. More interested in what was going to happen than what was happening at that very moment. His eyes skated over the stranger before him, barely maintaining eye contact before whipping his head to the side to look at a used mug set precariously on Jack's table. 

“Not a fan on eye contact?” Dr Lecter, that's what his name was, spoke effectively breaking the silence that was forming quite nicely in Will's opinion. He grumbled out an answer, uncouth and more than likely unwelcomed, before sighing and raking his hand through the dark curls on top of his head. 

“See too much. Don't see enough.” His sentence drifted off there, letting silence fall back into place between the three of them. Will eyed the two of them, grumpy and unwilling to work it out. “Im not accepting any help at this time Doctor. No electrotherapy, no medical trials. I am completely and mentally FINE.” Taking the firey moment, Will dared to look the other in the eyes; holding the stare for a few moments before drawing his attentions away. 

“Nothing of the sort,” Dr Lecter agreed, “Conversations need neither medical attentions nor electrotherapy. Who knows we could even be friends. ” He placed his hand on the knee that was connected to the leg that was swung over the other one. His figures tapped once against the pant leg before stilling and remaining unmoving.

“Not interested, and no offense but I don't find you that interesting.” Will stood at that moment, letting the chair squeak as it was scooted back a few inches to make room. He left in a quick spectacle of movement involving stomping and shuffling of feet. It was followed by a deep sigh and a resigned looking Jack shuddered in his seat. 

“ Sorry, He's stubborn, has a bad attitude and can be completely rude to strangers” Jack gave a half shrug, commenting on the downfalls of his adopted son with a hint of affection that spoke a great deal to Hannibal. Hannibal, in turn, nodded along with the explanations. He mentally counted as the sound of steps faded and smiled. 

“No troubles, inspector. A little backlash doesnt hurt anyone and wont deter me. I believe I can help him in his abilities. You see, from what you have mentioned, our dear William seems to possess the ability of pure empathy.” A trait that Hannibal hadn't found yet in any patients he undertook. How interesting William would be. He leaned back in his chair, a power move to show his comfort at the entire situation. Jack leveled him with a long look, waiting for a moment with bated breath. 

“Its really the best news I have heard in a while” Jack sighed out, letting his shoulders relax and slump into acceptance. 

Hannibal smiled. 

______

“Conversations CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?” Will huffed, resisting the urge to slap the counter he was standing next to. His long time friend, Beverly, staring back at him with a knowing look in her eyes. He really could have seen them together. Romantically. She was supportive, friendly where he was quiet and bitter. She was sunshine while he lurked in the darkness. 

She thrust herself into the “just friends” position before he could blink, something he was always grateful for. Her husband was pretty grateful as well. Beverly then smirked, batting at his shoulder with a tease. 

“I saw him come in, asked where he could find Inspector Crawford.” Her head tilted to the side, he mischievous smile growing, “He looked quite handsome.” 

Okay well, Beverly was also the only one who knew more of what his inclinations were. Will glared at her, cheeks pink around the edges of his face. She laughed at him. Strands of her ebony hair that had fallen from her crisp bun, shook from her delight. “I'd date him,” She joked. 

“Scandalous, what would your husband think, Mrs. Katz.” 

“He'd be thrilled to know you held his interest.” The smirk was back on her elegant features. She quickly dodged his hand as he moved to knock over the a stack of papers on her work area. “Now, that will be all Officer Graham!” 

Will let out a rare bout of laughter.


	2. Parties on intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He vaguely noticed Lecter looking back at him. Eyes narrowed in intrigue. The look sent a severe shiver down Will's spine, a spark of something igniting in the depths of his stomach. It unnerved him. A look that could take apart all of Will's carefully strung together persona string by string. Until nothing but frayed ends and soft insides remained. 
> 
> It could very well be his downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating schedule isn't consistent
> 
> Chapter 2!~

It was a particularly tiresome evening the next time Will Graham found himself being introduced to Hannibal Lecter. A party to celebrate the most recent accomplishments of the Baltimore police department. Lavish celebrations that Will would never find himself attending unless his father had dragged him along(Which was something Jack did have the pleasure of doing). Groups of party goers danced around in the main ballroom. Lights dimmed just enough so one could barely make out the details of their dance partners. Frilly dresses swooped against the tiled flooring that shined from the polish treatment they were given earlier in the day. Chatter echoed through the halls, joyous laughing and chortling that gnawed on Will's frayed nerves. 

He REALLY hated these kind of events. His eyes scanned the room for any sign of Beverly. Or perhaps any sign that he could sneak away unseen. The first option seemed bleak, he could barely make out men from woman at this point in time. Each one looked like they were trying to out glitter the other in a peacockish kind of way. 

It was utterly and entirely unnecessary. 

 

Will grumped from one end of the ballroom to another, weaving past swooping skirts and perilous stomping of gentlemanly shoes to find sanctity in the library, knowing that there would be one. The house the party found themselves at was massive. It glowed with the encouragement of money behind its walls and décor. Gold trim on the staircases, marble floors, dark wood walls that screamed elegance from miles away. Will chewed on his lip to hold back any remorseful or disdain talk. He was a guest here, no matter how much the frivolous representation of the homes interior settled awkwardly in his stomach. 

Echoes of his footsteps trailed behind him as he walked down the hallway that had connected to the main foyer, just adjacent of the ballroom where the loud noises could still be heard. People milled about, sluggishly wasting the evening away by conversation, food, and drink. They barely nodded as he past, too absorbed in their company than about who was around them. So much for keeping aware at all times. It would at least prove to his advantage in the given circumstances. 

 

Admittedly, he would feel rather foolish for not paying enough attention himself. His fingertips grazed along the indention of the wooden wall panels, letting snags of the wood grain, that would develop into splinters over time, to rasp against his skin. His mind flowed freely from one topic to another, drifting off into deeper thoughts until a loud thump startled him back into reality. His head collided with a curve of someones neck to their chin, fitting snugly as the owner of the body he ran into let his chin relax against the top of Will's curls before stepping back. 

“Good evening, Mr Graham.” 

Well, Will definitely knew that accent. Even if he had only heard it once before. The deep foreign curve to the worlds caused a shiver to escape from him. Hannibal Lecter. Will's head shot up, staring briefly at maroon eyes before jerking to the side to stare at a vase with some awful blue flowers on its surface. 

“What are you doing here, YOU are not police. Nor are you family of Police.” Well, okay he hoped the man wasn't family of Police. Though the answer he did receive sparked a wave of embarrassment that visibly showed in the heat of an intense blush. 

“I would think it obvious that I would be in my own house.” The teasing tone Lecter held struck a cord. Will's blush deepened as his eyes widened with the new found knowledge. Of course this would be Doctor Lecters house. Of course the décor would be disastrously ugly and, more importantly, braggishly expensive. Of course the offer of housing the celebration here would have been to good of an opportunity for Jack. 

Suddenly things made a hell of a lot more sense to Will Graham than they had before. He jumped back, ready to turn heel and run out of the front door. “I don't know why My- Why Jack has thought it best for us to continuously meet, Dr Lecter. I am sorry for any disappointment but I can assure you I do not need any help or anyone to have CONVERSATIONS with. I am fine on my own, thank you.” His fingers twitched with the knowledge and fear or his mind playing too man scenarios in his head. Too many outcomes, not enough time to determine which one would be best. Which one would be safest to travel through. Simmering underneath anger and determination to find the excuse to just leave already. 

“Hannibal?” 

A woman's voice. Will's sight drifted towards the direction of the sound, taking awareness in her facial expression before lowering and staying at shoulder length. Her blond, braided hair looped around to frame her face then tucked behind by a pin that Will could see sticking out of the side of her updo. Lips painted red to match the sparkling dress she wore. Its wine color accentuated her figure, capturing her beauty in the ruffles and bunches of silk. Her eyes burned briefly with cold, calculating recognition. It was not a look Will was used to upon first encounters. 

“Its almost time for the show.” The woman's tone matched her gaze, cold and indifferent. Calculating over something that Will simply couldn't understand for the moment. Like she was upset but was trying to hid it very well. Clever and precise, like a snake's strike. 

Hannibal only sighed, closing his eyes, to smile and turn his head to speak to her. “Bedelia, may I introduce one of the stars of tonight's celebrations. This is William Graham.” There was a tightening of her gaze as she nodded once, finding her way down the rest of hallway. “William, This is my sister Bedelia Lecter.”

 

“I honestly do not care.” Will gritted out, seething from the interruption. Hannibal's own eyes narrowed down giving Will the same look his sister was giving. The similarities were truly astonishing.“What show are you even talking about!??” His words bounced off the walls and floors, echoing slightly in the now soundless area. Tension filling every spare space. 

“Piano” Bedelia eventually pointed out. “I have been asked by my dear brother to play a few pieces for the crowd.” 

“She is stunning at the keys,” Hannibal motioned with his hands, “You really should stay for this at the very least, my dear William.” 

Great, he was going to have to be sociable. In the worst ways possible. Will closed his eyes, hand flying over them in an attempt to shield him from the responsibilities the request entailed. Truthfully he loved music. Music was one of his only escapes from the gory day to day that his life found itself representing. He, himself, even played an old piano that was left at the Crawfords house from ancestors and relatives. Bella had loved teaching him the simple things. Her hands gracefully flying over black and white rectangles, producing pure magic to the ears. 

He missed it greatly. 

Yet, he wanted no part of watching this performance. Wanted no part in staying and every part of leaving. Right then. The Lecter siblings glanced back to each other. Bedelia lifting one delicate eyebrow, the movement full of attitude. Hannibal's look could have been matching Bedelia's but Will couldn't see it. 

“Fine.” He surprised himself, surprised the others too from the looks of it. There was at least some satisfaction there. “I suppose you two should lead the way??” Like hell was he going to walk back to the commotion in front of the two of them. 

The small smile that graced Hannibal's lips would haunt Will in his sleep that very evening. 

_______

Will hated to but had to admit it. Bedelia Lecter did know her way around a piano. Or an Organ. Or really any piece of musical playing instrument that required one to tap on keys in order to make the sound he or she wanted. The crowd stood speechless, watching with raft attention to the haunting melodies. He wasn't even quite sure that he had heard the songs before in his lifetime. How strange that they seemed to fit the family that was playing them so well. 

He kept his attentions to the notes, letting the swirls and drags on music clumped together to guide him on a journey in his mind. Through fog covered fields and dark forests with low hanging branches that could threaten and promise a few beheaddings from anyone who dared travel through by horseback. In his mind, the ghost of himself walked through these forests and fog covered fields with solace. 

It was only until the final keys were tapped out that Will Graham found himself opening his eyes. The strain thunderous applause rang into his ears, causing his hands to flinch towards them in order to protect himself. He vaguely noticed Lecter looking back at him. Eyes narrowed in intrigue. The look sent a severe shiver down Will's spine, a spark of something igniting in the depths of his stomach. It unnerved him. A look that could take apart all of Will's carefully strung together persona string by string. Until nothing but frayed ends and soft insides remained. 

It could very well be his downfall. 

Will turned away, thinking for a minute, then spun back around to face Lecter once more. He gave one final low bow. A symbol of respect or a symbol of gratitude, Will wasn't sure. He also wasn't very sure how the other would perceive it at well. With quick steps and quiet taps of his feet on the shined down tiled floor, Will raced out of the home. 

He didn't look back.   
__

 

They found themselves meeting quite a few times after, Hannibal and Will. Walking down the sidewalk of a busy Baltimore street. They would nod and continue on with their lives. At the corner bakery. The bakery that was both famous for their morning breads and good, as professional and personable as you can get, service. Hannibal had only requested to sit next to Will one time out of the handful of times they had run into each other there. Carefully eating a pastry that twisted and turned into some kind of diamond with ruby glistening jam in the center, while Will slammed down a coffee as if it was scotch on a particularly bad day. Neither of them spoke while taking the others presence in. Not until the final dredges of coffee were drunk and the final crumbles of pastry were swiped away and off the table discretely. 

Will found that encounter to be among his favorite of encounters by the one and only Hannibal Lecter. 

 

A yawn escaped from the back of his throat as Will leaned backwards in the chair he was currently seated at. His hand delicately placed over his lips in an attempt to stifle it back down and hide it from the world. It was seen as unprofessional. Not that Will really minded looking professional in the first place. His grumpy appearance did quite the opposite when it came to looking like he knew what he was doing. 

It had been almost half a year since Will's first encounter with Hannibal in his fath- in Jack's office. Almost 4 months since the party where he met with Hannibal's beautiful and cold Sister. Almost 3 weeks since the coffee visit where Will could actually say he was gathering FEELINGS Towards Hannibal. And wow, what a thought that was! He wasn't at all sure what to do with that. Not one bit. Sure Hannibal was an attractive sort. He was smart, had money. Had the looks that most of the police officers wives around him gossiped about. How many of them sighed dreamily when they were in the same room as the man in question. How many of them would take a second or even a third look at his backside if they had the chance. 

Hannibal was a lot of things. And a lot of those things were attractive in the prospect of marriage. A lot of those things were fight starting in their potentials. 

Hannibal could have anyone he wanted. Yet.... Hannibal kept his gaze directly on Will.

“They say those stuck in their daydreams have trouble finding sleep at night” A teasing voice called him out of his reprieve. Beverly smirked, a strand on her hair had escaped from the tight bun on top of her head to lightly curly about and lay delicately next to her lips. She held out a stack of papers with a seemingly apologetic look in her eyes. “Something on your mind?” Upon closer look at him, her smirk grew. “Someone perhaps?”

Will found himself rolling his eyes and sighing. “Sleep always had evaded me, why would it be any different now.” His hand drifted over the first page of papers she had presented him with, itching to avoid her critical gaze for just a few moments longer. Beverly was a clever woman, she would be able to see right through him. 

She didnt give him very long to think, bull dozing her way straight into the point. 

“Heard around the precinct that Chief Inspector Crawford believes you will be more accepting in seeing Hannibal for professional visitations soon. He seemed rather grateful.”   
He scoffed at such an assumption. No matter how friendly Hannibal and himself were, he just could not see himself opening up to that kind of scrutiny while still being alive to deal with the repercussions. 

Quite frankly, he would prefer all observations to be talked about posthumously.

“He's got it all wrong.” The words were mumbled under his breath, a whisper of annoyance tinged with his antisocial qualities that caused the young woman to snort unfeminine like. Her wrist pressed against her chin as she tried to hide it. “What we have could be considered.....friendly?” 

“So you like him?”

“No.” 

“Want to be friends with him?”

“No.”

“You're starting to develop feelings for him.”

A thunk echoed through the room, murmurs from those around the pair quieted as on lookers gauged the scene that was before them for a moment before turning back to their discussions. 

Will Graham face planting into his desk wasn't exactly out of the norm for them after all. Beverly didn't hold back her laughter at that. Her giggles lightened up Will's mood considerably, the melodic lift and drop of each outburst was refreshing. “Gotcha.”

“Not funny in the slightest Beverly.” 

The both quieted down. Beverly breathing out a sigh. “No,” She sniffed, “It isn't.” It was such a delicate subject. She felt the ground around it was as thin as melting ice. One wrong step and you toppled over into dangerous depths. “But I would support you, if you did.” The words filled Will with a warmth that he wasn't looking forward to thinking about later. Later when the morals of their society were cushioned and put to rest so that the darker and more carnal urges of the mind and body could have their moment to shine. Where sleeping views of right and wrong were blurred into foggy afterthoughts. He smiled, tapping her hand amicably before gazing through the paperwork she presented him with. 

His thanks would go unsaid. She knew what he meant anyways. 

____

A desperate and frantic knock woke Will from his slumbers. Winston, a dog that he managed to secure to himself a few years back, licked at his hands. His ears twitched at the noise, his whines voicing how reluctant he was of his human getting up from their place of rest. In the back of Will's mind, he found himself voicing the same reluctance. 

The knocking didn't stop. If anything it seemed to have grown louder as the seconds passed. Will sighed, stretching so his limbs and bones could pop and groan. His feet tapped quickly on the cold wooden floor. Their owner not wanting to let the chill seep into his skin. It was way to early in the morning for visitors. The sky looked positively misty and the sun seemed to still be hiding behind the hills in the distance. Not yet peaking over the horizon to welcome in the new day. Clouds outside were thick and grey. Will didn't think the suns chances to shine would be very good on this type of day. 

“Mr Graham! Please this is urgent!” 

A few whispered voices sounded from behind the door. A new voice screaming his name now 

“INSPECTOR GRAHAM PLEASE” 

Will groaned, opening the door as soon as he reached the handle. The wood frame thwacked unattractively against the wall adjacent to it. Hopefully there wouldn't be a dent. Two people. Two officers, Will noted, startled from the noise yet still carried the frazzled look of bad news surrounding them. Will was familiar with that look. Familiar with how that look normally ended for him. He did not like that look at all. 

“Finally. You have to come with us.”

An eyebrow was raised. Will thought for a moment what the two peoples faces in front of him would look like if he let the door slam back into its place. 

“Its Chief inspector Crawford.”

He had a sinking feeling in his heart.


	3. Deaths door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His footsteps echoed in the quiet of the halls. The door slammed shut behind him. Will leaned against the outer wall, the noise of everyday people living their everyday lives drowned out to him. 
> 
> He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Major Character death, death scenes, gore 
> 
> This may be the last update I have for a bit. I want to finish writing more before I post the next update~

Blood. Dried sprays of rusty red against the white concrete wall contrasted heavily and ominously. They were not supposed to be there. This was not supposed to have happened. Ever. 

Jack's body lied limp on the ground, slouched over and missing a rather massive amount of flesh from the side of his shoulder. Tears in clothes and skin littered Jacks entire being. The smell started becoming overwhelming. Will wanted to look away. This was to familiar to him. Jack meant too much to him. His whole body seemed to be shutting down piece by piece, tunnel vision singling out the body that laid before him. 

Who could have done such a thing. 

Will found himself breathing heavily, trying to calm down before the first strikes of panic affected his body. He knew, back in his mind that this event would take a toll on him. On his mind. On his body. There was no time to mourn right now. 

He closed his eyes. 

He let the pendulum swing. Events backtracking and his fathers body becoming whole again. Alive again. Shock and a vague sense of urgency etched into the dying mans familiar yet different facial expression. A need to protect that almost rivaled another need. Another emotion that demanded it would be the only way. That Crawford's death was a means to an end, no matter how regrettable it could have been. It was so clinical, so detached of an emotion that it stuck with Will. Sent a shiver up and down his spine and the thought of someone having such little care for another. 

“The killer knew him.” He said simply, mystified with his own ability to pull off those words without shuddering emotions. Noise started filling in the space around him, coworkers and cleaners keeping their voices down enough to form into a cohesive background white noise. 

“The killer had some sort of relationship with Mr. Crawford. Someone who could be around him without raising suspicion until it was too late.” His fingernails cut into his palm, leaving half crescent moon shapes into his flesh. “They were methodical, cold.” His death vaguely important, Will's mind supplied dangerously. Cruel. Resentment bubbled under Will's skin, through his veins. It simmered underneath his will power and resolve, begging freedom in the form of violence or yelling.

“I need to take a step out.” 

His footsteps echoed in the quiet of the halls. The door slammed shut behind him. Will leaned against the outer wall, the noise of everyday people living their everyday lives drowned out to him. 

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. 

His father was dead. 

___________________

It had been a week since Jack Cawford's death and Will Graham wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. Bitter feelings filled his veins, made his skin twitch towards aggression at the ideas that the world could just simply move on from this kind of event. How could the streets of Baltimore just...keep going as if nothing had happened. As if their own chief protector didnt have his head smashed in and parts of his shoulder missing. 

It just didn't sit right with Will and the funeral was going to be in a few days time. He sat at his work desk, flipping through papers of reports without actually retaining the information he was supposed to be reading. Fellow coworkers made sure to give him a rather wide area of room when they encountered him at his table or in the halls or in the busy, and bumbling streets. No one wanting to discuss the issues with the man that was already known to be antisocial. Already known to be on the unsafe side of crazy. 

Everyone except Beverly. She skillfully waltzed around Will, placing papers down and grabbing the ones that he “read” through, to save them for later. A hand was always patting his shoulder or head lightly as she passed. Small actions of comfort and encouragement that Will was finding to be a life savor. He needed someone to not tiptoe around him. Needed someone who wasn't afraid to face the emotions he was experiencing. His mind lightly drifted towards Hannibal,wondering. He hadn't seen the other since way before the tragedy and as unlikely as Will was to admit it, he was missing the other immensely. 

“You mean you haven't seen him since?” Beverly raised an eyebrow astonished. The cup of watered down tea she had made herself earlier cooling rapidly from the chilled air around them. “That sounds so out of character from our lovely doctor.” A quirky frown tilted her delicate lips downward, making her look as tired as she probably had felt. Will could only give a shrug in response. He let the notions of thoughts fill his head with what could bes and what ifs that pertained to the doctor and his untimely absence.   
“I have much more important things to worry about.” 

“Yeah but you want to worry about this” Well at least the frown was gone now, replaced with a childish grin and a wink of Beverly's eye. Moments passed in a peaceful quiet. Beverly giving out a quick sigh, placing her hands on the desk to fiddle with the cup she was holding. “What if there is a reason though.” Her tone almost nervous as she glances towards Wills face, making eye contact before he quickly looked away. “Isn't it strange for the man who wanted to get to know you, to be gone after something tragically happens? I would be careful...”

“You think he may have something to do with it.”

“It would be stupid to not at least humor the idea right?” Will huffed out a disbelieving snort. He would take that into account but the man highly doubted that it was nothing more than a coincidence. Hannibal was a busy gentleman. A gentleman that had his own life, his own worries to occupy that brain of his. 

 

“There are no such things as coincidences” Beverly's words, Will didn't know it then, would haunt him for years to come. 

_______________

It was sunny the day of the funeral. Sunny just like the day where Will found Jack in his rather unfortunate state. It was funny. Well not really funny, it was actually very unfunny. Will hated it deeply, how the only days that seem to be sunny and sort of warm were on days where that shouldn't be a thing at all. There should be rain. There should be wind. Wind so powerful and rain so downtrodden that no one dared to step foot outside unless absolutely necessary. 

Rain and wind that would have matched Bella's tears if she were still alive. 

Will was feeling absolutely alone now. He clenched his hands and tapped his fists against his pant leg in nervous energy, hoping to dispel the tension he was feeling deep in his bones. People have been walking up to him in the past hour. Giving him their condolences and sorry's and worries. They wanted him to know that he could come to them with whatever issues he had. They would do anything they could for him, in his time of need. They were so very very sorry. 

It was coated honey lies that Will scoffed at. Sweet words uttered to make the people issuing them feel somewhat better about themselves while those truly suffering had to take them in with fake gratitude and bitter realizations. It was rude to deny the good graces of strangers. No matter how much you wanted to scream and cry out at them. No matter how much you wanted to shout and hit, claiming to them the entire truth of their lies. 

Will Graham took his duties with the grace of a child at play. 

Will grunted and grimaced as he shook the hands of people he knew he would never see again. 

“Those whom are dead collect the souls of the living to bring us all together.” A soft, accented, murmer of the phrase caused Will to spin around sharply. Hannibal's lips moved minutely into a form of the smallest, saddest, smile Will had ever seen. His eyes covered by a pair of dark glasses. They matched the equally dark ensemble he wore, all black and velvet to the touch. Proper necktie and pocket squares adored and accented his form, giving him the air of a proper gentleman. 

Will was shocked into silence. 

“Where?” he opened his mouth to finish his sentence, only snapping it shut a few more times when no words escaped him. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? His mind screamed in question. He didnt have authority or right to be asking that kind of thing. Yet it seemed the words were loud and clear to Hannibal as the man's smile widened. 

“Im sorry I haven't been around. Work had dragged me away to Minnesota to a young woman and her family, and when I found out about Jacks....Well I rushed here as soon as I was able.” He tapped the cane he was holding in his left hand against the dirt and stone. “I wanted to send my condolences in person and speak up about my worry for you.” 

Will groaned, rolling his eyes at the statement. Of course there would be more worry, but he wasn't about to let him admit it to himself that the words made his entire being feel lighter. That the worry somehow meant something MORE when it was coming from Hannibal. 

“I will be fine, Doctor. Really im not a child” 

“I did not think that for a second William.”

“It's Will.” 

“I prefer the more proper way of speaking it but if you prefer than Will it will become.”

Will rolled his eyes again, smiling despite the location of their chat and the meaning of the day. It was nice....for just a second in the chaos of his life at that very moment, to be able to step away from all the loss and have an actual good chance to smile. No one else thought it was important enough to help him with. 

No one except Hannibal. 

“I mean it, I am not a child. I can take care of myself.” Will was determined more than anything to prove it. 

“You are forgetting the reason why your father wanted us to meet in the first place” Hannibals voice was gentle, soothing as the words themselves bit and ripped at Will's conscience and state of mind. The knowledge of what was being said softened by the tones of Hannibals voice. Will still wanted to hiss at him. He felt the slow simmer of realizing anger in his veins. “I can help you Will.”

“No I remember it exactly Doctor Lecter and the answer is still no.” Will let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat. “It was good seeing you but I must attend to the others.” With one final look to the mans pocket square, Will turned around and walked away with a mind tumbling with thoughts. 

His house felt even colder and more lonesome that night than the previous ones.   
_______________

Days formed into weeks and soon enough an entire month had passed with visits from Hannibal that became regular and nights filled with utter loneliness for Will. Nights spent staring up at his own ceiling, letting his thoughts overflow and seep into the depths of his mental capabilities. Shadows of gloomy figures, memories haunting his senses. They left him with noticeable bags under his eyes and an irritability that rivaled all around him. The stress showed. Gave Beverly and those closest to him wonder and worry. Could the lose of his father give him that much pain and anguish? Could it be possible that the situation finally broke Will Graham? 

No one wanted to ask. 

 

Even Will questioned this of himself. He grasped tightly at a cup in his hands, whiskey sloshing back and forth on the sides. The whiskey a gift from Hannibal the previous day. He remembers blushing a deep shade of red, is blushing right now as he thinks of this past event. His heart and insides warmed from the alcohol and kind thoughts. It was almost enough to have him wanting for conversations. Almost enough to ask for the help that Hannibal was wanting to provide. 

He convinced himself that his pride was too much to give in just yet. Gave him an excuse to continue staring up at the skies. Then he blinked, and it was morning. 

Astounded, Will whipped his head around, taking in the light shades of his walls as the first rays of light filtered into the window. How...bizarre. He was certain that night had merely just begun. Did he fall asleep? Will would hope he would atleast remember the tiredness and drifting between the boundaries of the subconscious and wakefulness. His hand snaked its way up to his forehead in an effort to gauge his temperature. 

Outside the howls of several street dogs could be heard. His own pack of mutts perking up their ears at the noise. Will felt fine. Or as fine as one could feel during this prescribed time of mourning. Just a small headache. A small headache and waking up after not entirely remembering how he fell asleep. Really one could say it was the stress of it all having its affect on him. 

________________

“I need your help” Will shuttered out loud, hands grasping onto his arms in the form of a grotesque hug while his entire form shook and sobbed. 

“Will? Will what's wrong?” Hannibal looked on with a frown, eyebrows knitted in fake confusion. He hadn't expected his plan to come together so quickly. Had to thank whatever entity or god that was out there giving him some grace. 

“Ive been...” Will pauses briefly, afraid to spell it out to the other. Afraid that once he says it. Once the words become tangible in this world then they will define him. Everything left of him will be stripped down to the words he will utter. Every breath he takes from then on out will be judged accordingly. 

“I feel crazy”   
“Surely you are not” Hannibal tilted his head to the side. Eyes drifting up and down Will's entire frame before stopping at eye contact. Waiting to see how long it took before Will would break it. How trust worthy were those eyes as they stared back incredulously. It was a risky game to play. 

It worked beautifully. Eye contact held for significantly longer than their first meeting. Will looked up to Hannibal in some way, that was enough to keep playing. It was enough of a reason to push and see what happens next. 

“What would cause you to utter such words about oneself?”

“Im not keeping track. I keep seeing it. I keep seeing them.”

“Track? Of what? Who Will? Who do you see?”

“Of time.” 

“You are seeing time? Or are you not keeping track of time. Will I need to know what you are meaning.” Hannibal sighed, placing a hand over Will's as he clutched onto his arm. 

“I need your help.” Wills voice trembled. 

Bingo.


	4. Cobwebs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome to the Lecter Manor” Hannibal's eyes gleamed with an emotion that Will couldn't decipher by glancing at his reflection on the carriage window. “Our humble abode”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't mean to leave this for so long! This summer has been spent with me in and out of the Doctors due to a very bad infection that send me to the ER. 
> 
> I hope to update this a bit more frequently, but I am still healing. Onwards though!

The Lector main household was a treck from the major city, on the edge of the newly formed state lines in the middle of dense forests and hills. Will stared out of the carriage, keeping his eyes from turning to the other companions in the car. Hannibal and Bedelia both seemed rather bored of the surrounding area. It would make sense, Will surmised, they did have to make the journey more than a few times in a year he bet. 

It was still very beautiful. 

That was until Will saw the house itself. Its massive gates blocking off the land that seemed to stretch on forever before leading up to an equally massive house. Cold stone, cut into jagged shapes gave the outside a more rustic feel than the orderly lined brick walls of the city buildings that Will grew up knowing. Tall cylinder towers were positioned at opposite ends of the mansion, point rooftops dividing the sections of the house between them gave away its roomy structure. Giant windows were placed strategically enough that Will could imagine the sun giving off enough light in the daytime to not need candles or gas powered lamps. They were breath taking, and Will was in awe. 

“Welcome to the Lecter Manor” Hannibal's eyes gleamed with an emotion that Will couldn't decipher by glancing at his reflection on the carriage window. “Our humble abode”

“There is nothing humble about this.” 

Bedelia lightly snorted behind her hand, only the delicate puff of air released from her lips could be heard muffled by the fabric of her gloves. Her eyes still sharp enough to cut steel with a calculated control. “My brother has always tried to make it seem lesser than what it is.”   
Will found himself snorting at the reflection of Hannibal giving his sister a rather incredulous look. The noise of clomping hooves against gravel beaten pavement began to slow the nearer they got to the entrance, until the carriage itself stopped mere spaces before the grand opening. It was quiet, way too quiet for a place as big as the Lecter Manor. There were no sounds of people milling about. No sounds of workmen or maids keeping and maintaining the place that the Lecters called home. Will blinked rapidly, wanting to close his eyes in hopes of getting a better sense of sound. 

“Is no one here?”

Bedelia gave him a side eyed look, opening the door to the outside herself and taking a graceful step to meet with the stone beneath them. Hannibal descended after her, giving a nod to the driver, spinning around to offer his hand to Will. A hand that Will did not take. 

“We let the staff go, there was no need when neither Bedelia nor I intended to stay for any lengthy period of time. We can easily manage any clean up that is needed.” Will hoped he was right. 

\--------  
Will was never going to trust Hannibal's sense of ability again. 

 

While the outside of the Manor gleamed with regalness and stunned Will with its appearance, the inside was nothing to admire. Cobwebs littered every surface imaginable. Surfaces that were already covered in thick layers of dust and disuse. He continued the tour that Hannibal graciously offered him with great caution and concern. Parts of the ceiling crumbled above them, raining spects of paint and wood upon their heads. Colorful chips spelling out poisonous and dangerous as they drifted in the air until they met their fate, cluttering together on the wood floor. 

“This will be the last time I trust your word with anything” Will found himself muttering out loud. A scoff stifled with a delicate hand echoed gently in the space, Bedelia looking anywhere but the two other occupants while her mouth was covered. Will could see the slight cringe in Hannibal's gaze. 

“It is not as bad as it seems.” Hannibal tried to reassure, sidestepping to sweep the dust that cluttered on the floor beneath them to one side of the room. Will leveled him with a look. So much for living in peace and comfort, not that Will really thought he would get the chance to live in such a way. It just seemed like it would be common place. Still, he took in his surroundings and took a deep breath. 

“I can...I can fix some of this. It will take time. What else could I do during my days.” 

“You do not have to”

“Yeah, I know.” Will let out a huff, smirking as Bedelia stumbled on a raised floor board. “but I want to.” 

__________

Nights at the Lecter household were far different than those hours spent in the daylight. Day time spoke of maintenance and appointments for Will. Appointments where he would describe what he was thinking and how he was feeling to the man he had found himself suffocating an affection for. Day time meant walking outside and gathering the courage to drift farther and farther out, looking back to the house as a guideline of his existence here. Daytime meant missing his animals and friends, the feeling of homesickness sometimes too much to bare. 

Nighttime meant terror. Will did not figure this out until a few weeks into his stay. Night time meant worries and clouded memories. Night time was for the ghosts of his life to slowly take over every sense he had. 

It started off slowly for Will. On the first nights he had stayed. The creaking of the floor boards and the shifting of the house as it settled with the temperatures into evening hours, poked their ways into Will Grahams head and imagination. It left him restless, a sense of foreboading that he couldn't quite wish away. Its just the house, he reminded himself. Laying back onto the bed Will claimed as his own, eyes staring up at the ceiling. It was just the house. He was in a new place. This happens all the time for people and he would have to get used to it if he wanted to stay here. 

Did he want to stay here? 

A soft bang tore Wills mind away from the idea. His legs swung over the edge of the soft blanketed corners of the bed. His tapping footsteps echoed in the quiet space. Hand on the doorknob. Swinging the door open and poking his head out, Will looked up and down the hallway. “Hannibal?”

There was no answer. 

Well that was awfully rude, Will snorted to himself. He let his body walk through the threshold of his room into the chilly hallway. If Hannibal or Bedelia did happen to pass by, they would surely have waited when Will had called out right? Yet the bang was definitely not the house or outside of it. 

Perhaps an animal found its way in. Seemed possible, given the state the house was still under. He just hoped that the animal itself was fairing okay. Well and that it wasn't something like a poisonous snake or creature that would particularly leave a nasty bite or wound if they happened upon it. He was just about to turn back to his door when a shiver screamed its way up his spine. His whole body straightened, the feeling of a hand delicately brushing past him sent his nerves into overdrive. Aware of everything around him now, Will slowly turned again, seeing the edges of mist like puffs of air a frigid morning. 

Mist that disappeared right before his eyes. Leaving Will out in the hallway with nothing, not even a sound. 

He did not get sleep that night. Nor the next.


End file.
